


Obedience

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clu is exercising his lack of moral boundaries. Rinzler is the subject. In short: Clu is a complete monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before/at the start of Legacy.

The games would be starting soon.  
  
Clu shifted his weight on the throne, adjusting which leg lay on top of the other accordingly. He intended for his casual pose to convey a sense of apathy and confidence to those around him. Whether that meant Jarvis, his simpering lapdog, the blackguard that occasionally entered to seek orders and submit reports, or… others.  
  
At that moment, almost as though he had shared his thoughts out loud, Clu’s foot rest twitched just enough to draw his attention. He slid his right leg down from atop the left, bringing the heel of his boot against the rigid curve of Rinzler’s back with just enough force to cause discomfort. This time his servant, his _object_ , did not move. These instances of minor defiance had become rare in recent cycles, but Clu had learned long ago that Rinzler could occasionally surprise him.  
  
At times it seemed the base code that had once composed the mighty Tron was fighting to resurface, straining through the repurposing Clu had performed the night of his rebellion. He admitted to himself that this was probably a result of his hasty work, much like the constant, slightly off-kilter purr that he had grown so fond of. In fact, he was so pleased by the latter effect that it stayed his hand in making an effort to fix the more serious problem of having to repeatedly force his servant back into submission. Not that he hadn’t eventually found ways to handle that.  
  
His first attempts to keep Rinzler performing optimally were much more violent than he had originally intended. Back then the episodes were so frequent, Rinzler had to be locked away, restrained, and at times tortured quite brutally. Clu disdained the type of violence he was forced to inflict on the program, but it was necessary. Rinzler would strain against his bonds, attempting to cause himself injury, and Clu couldn’t have that. He had plans for the mighty champion of the Grid, after all. With time, and the dwindling number of those foolish enough to openly defy Clu’s sovereignty, he found Rinzler became increasingly easier to control. It didn’t escape his notice that the change coincided with the slow retreat of Kevin Flynn and his resistance. This perplexed Clu, who understood that Flynn had not created Tron, and should therefore hold no sway with the program. Really, he shouldn’t have had an effect on him at all once Clu repurposed him. However, the evidence spoke for itself. Time after time he witnessed Flynn leading his resistance nearer to where Clu and Rinzler were located, and time after time he heard the thrashing of a body fighting to free itself. The choked screams filled with rage.  
  
After pushing back successfully so many times, Clu grew so confident in his victory that he would forego standing in wait for the outcome of each skirmish, and instead slip into Rinzler’s cell. He would lean against the wall, conveying the same casual lack of concern he now put on as part of his customary routine, smiling as he imagined how Flynn would feel in his place. How would he react to seeing Rinzler—Tron, bound and half mad, writhing on the floor? Clu, being born of the experiences and knowledge of Kevin Flynn, had some idea, but he knew the reality would have been much more fascinating. He once considered showing Flynn what had become of his trusted friend, but he couldn’t justify the risk of revealing that hand to his enemy. Users were too unpredictable. Especially where emotion was involved, which seemed to be in every aspect of their processes.  
  
Instead he was patient, and he held the secret of Tron’s fate close to his chest. When he was finally able to be freed, Rinzler was ordered to keep his helmet on at all times and never speak unless specifically instructed by Clu. Only a fool would believe that none remained who were still loyal to their creator.  
  
As the cycles passed and his control over the Grid became absolute, Clu learned much more efficient ways to keep his favorite acquisition in line. One way was by allowing the program to exercise his aggression on those undeserving of the perfection Clu bestowed upon them. He re-instituted the games, and inserted Rinzler as the final challenge for the disc battles. The gladiatorial combat kept the basic programs distracted, steadily increased Rinzler’s proficiency in battle, and actually amused Clu more than he would have thought. He found himself enthralled by the spectacle of the programs struggling for survival, ultimately finding themselves faced with a superior foe, yet still determined to fight. It reminded him of the grim determination of Kevin Flynn, and he wondered if all who traversed the Grid were tainted by Flynn’s sentimentality, his resolve to keep trying even though he had no hope. It served the programs in the games as much good as it had Flynn.  
  
He didn’t know at the time, but delving into those parts of himself that Flynn had imparted to him had sparked something in Clu, and over time it grew silently in the background. He watched the games, cycle after cycle, never registering the change in his own actions, until one day he found himself on the edge of his seat, gloved hands clutching his knees, the pulsating hum of his circuits as they buzzed in his ears loud enough to drown out the sound of the chanting crowd below. His eyes were locked on Rinzler. He lost track of how long he watched the program whirl and dive around his opponent. When the inevitable moment of deresolution came, Rinzler remained crouched over the shattered remains of his adversary, his arm still extended behind him as it had been for the killing strike. He lifted his head, looking to where he knew Clu would be, as he always did following each victory. Clu’s gaze swept over the sleek contours of Rinzler’s body; thighs that seemed to strain against his suit, the graceful curve of muscle, back arched and taut…  
  
That night he had learned the most effective way of reminding Rinzler just who it was he belonged to. Repeatedly.  
  
Clu savored the memories of his first times dominating Rinzler. It amused him to withhold permission to speak, knowing the program was close to breaking down from the strain of keeping silent throughout what was being done to his body. Often, when Clu did finally grant him relief, Rinzler had gone well past the point where he could produce coherent sounds. What came from him instead sounded more like the noises he had made all those cycles ago, chained down in his cell.  
  
The mingling of the two memories was surprisingly intoxicating. The unexpected jolt of arousal stirred a familiar desire in Clu. He looked down at Rinzler, crouched below his feet.  
  
“Jarvis.” It was spoken as a command, never a request.  
  
The sycophantic program was at Clu’s side immediately. “Excellency?”  
  
“The games will be postponed tonight.”  
  
“I—sir, the crowd—”  
  
It only took the slight turn of Clu’s head to silence Jarvis. The program lowered his head and backed away quickly.  
  
“And Jarvis,” Clu called back to him, “go find something to do for a while.”  
  
He felt a tremble shake Rinzler’s body, but he didn’t punish him with a heel to the back this time. Instead, he gently lifted his legs from Rinzler’s back, confident the program knew better than to move without instruction. Clu looked at the window and the packed stadium in the distance, regretting his decision not to order the ship closer before sending Jarvis away. It thrilled him to take Rinzler in front of the crowd, knowing they couldn’t see what was happening just above them.  
  
“Remove your suit and helmet,” he ordered.  
  
Rinzler obeyed without hesitation, and set his tandem disc on the floor as his suit derezzed. In the early days of this treatment he had been slower to comply, and sometimes fought Clu outright depending on how long it had been since the last time. Clu always liked it best that way. Watching whatever internal struggle the broken program was going through as Clu forced himself inside, wrestling with that powerful, writhing creature as Rinzler tried to buck his hips and dislodge the body pinning him down. He considered ordering Rinzler to fight him this time as well, but it wouldn’t be the same. Genuine panic was impossible to fake.  
  
Plus he’d discovered it was actually quite dangerous to order a functional Rinzler to fight him.  
  
No, this time would simply be to slake his lust, Clu decided. He swiftly removed his own suit and overcoat and stood, putting a foot against Rinzler’s backside. One good shove sent him tumbling forward onto his stomach. Clu knelt between Rinzler’s legs and grabbed his hips, pulling him into a kneeling position.  
  
“You’re free to make noise, by the way. I’m feeling generous.” And anxious. No prolonged torment this time.  
  
He took a moment to line himself up and then pressed forward, mercilessly pushing as far as he could go in one swift motion. Rinzler tensed and cried out. His fingers flexed convulsively, clawing at the floor. Clu enjoyed the sight of the program as he struggled to remain on his hands and knees, bending to the force of being fucked as hard as his master could manage. Clu felt Rinzler tighten around him, and the pleasure of it urged him to go faster and faster until his thrusts caused the smaller program’s knees to slide forward. Rinzler’s arms were shaking, and a moment later he lost the battle to keep himself up, his chest and head falling against the floor. He clenched his teeth and made a low growling noise, hitched at even intervals by the impact of Clu’s body slamming against his own.  
  
The sensation of his cock sliding against Rinzler’s tight flesh was indescribable. Clu had often wondered how sex on the Grid compared to what the users experienced in their world. Every circuit felt energized, pulsating with power. Could they know anything so stimulating, so intense? He felt the pleasure to every edge of his form. It was like nothing else he had ever experienced. The ecstasy of filling Rinzler with everything he had was second only to the heady rush of sensation that brought him near the brink of an overload when he climaxed. Just thinking about it summoned the unmistakable feeling, like a knot building deep inside him, tightening until it felt as though every thread of the string would come apart.  
  
“Tell me what I want to hear,” Clu breathed heavily, knowing he could only hold on for a bit longer. “Say it.”  
  
The reply was a half-moan that sounded like it might have been intended as a word at some point.  
  
Clu squeezed the flesh between his fingers, making Rinzler gasp.  
  
“Say it!”  
  
“I s—ah—I serve,” he managed, before a push from Clu made his breath catch. “I—”  
  
Clu reached forward, grabbed a fistful of hair, and jerked Rinzler’s head back. “ _Say what I want to hear!_ ” he demanded.  
  
“I serve you,” Rinzler cried out, “I serve you!” The fist clenching his hair twisted, extracting another gasp, and he was rewarded for his obedience with several powerful thrusts as Clu reached his limit.  
  
“That’s right,” Clu sneered, pulling out with as much care as he had used when he penetrated the other program. He shoved Rinzler’s head forward and let go of his hair. “You remember that.”  
  
“Always,” came the pitiful, choked reply.  
  
“Get out.”  
  
Rinzler picked up his discs, stood, and walked briskly toward the ramp leading out of the room; the suit rematerializing on his body as he went. Clu turned from where he was still kneeling on the floor and watched him go. The experience had done nothing to lessen the urge he felt.  
  
“Wait,” he said, just as Rinzler reached the door.  
  
He knew Rinzler would go when told, he would perform his duty in the games, and he would come back to submit himself again when Clu ordered it. He was an obedient servant. But clearly that wasn’t enough anymore. Clu _needed_ him to resist, just having his way only took the edge off, but it wasn’t good enough. He missed the sensation of forcing his will, his body, on such a powerful program. A program who could only fight back in the smallest ways through his repurposing, but ways that still hinted at the raw power beneath, struggling to break free. Owning _that_ was worth much more satisfaction than a compliant piece of property.  
  
An idea occurred to him. Clu stood, replaced his own suit and disc and walked over to stand behind Rinzler. A cruel smile twisted his lips.  
  
“Before you go to fight in the games, tell me… who do you fight _for?_ ”  
  
This time there was no reply.  
  
“Who do you fight for?”  
  
The air hummed with tension. Clu could see Rinzler shaking, and he wondered if it was from fear or rage—either could prove exciting. He reached up and gently stroked Rinzler’s neck with the back of his hand. This time he jerked away from the touch. Good. There was still some spark of resistance left in his pet, it seemed.  
  
He chuckled. “Go.”  
  
Without any hesitation Rinzler marched from the room. Jarvis was outside the door when it opened, eyes cast downward as the other program brushed past him.  
  
“Bring the ship to the arena, it’s time for the games,” Clu ordered. His helmet slid into place, and he ascended the ramp back to the bridge. Jarvis followed, babbling about schedules and plans, but Clu ignored him. He looked out over the Grid, thinking of how he could reawaken that open defiance in Rinzler, bring him back to the days when he was almost uncontrollable. Recover the time wasted torturing him, when Clu could have been fucking him to obedience instead. He settled himself on the throne, one leg propped up on the edge, and an arm braced across his knee.  
  
He would _make_ Rinzler answer that question, eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clu continues to test how far he can push Rinzler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Sam escapes from the light cycle grid.

“Kneel. Very good. Now, open—no, don’t back away. Open your mouth.”  
  
Clu was still experimenting with ways to fan the spark in Rinzler to an outright flame. He had hoped the unexpected but _highly_ convenient appearance of Kevin Flynn’s son might have affected his toy, but so far the program’s behavior was typical. How disappointing.  
  
At the moment, though, he was learning that Rinzler would fight commands to perform in front of an audience. Two blackguard stood to the side as instructed. Jarvis was panicking silently behind the throne. Rinzler knelt between Clu’s knees, staring defiantly at the floor. He had yet to obey the last command.  
  
“ _Open your mouth_.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Clu jerked his head back in shock. Finally, progress. He would have to respond accordingly. Not that it bothered him to do so—quite the opposite, in fact. He drew a leg back and kicked Rinzler in the chest, sending him hurtling backward to the floor. He then stood and walked forward, towering over the other program.  
  
“Sir, if you like…” Jarvis began.  
  
“Quiet.”  
  
Rinzler crawled backwards until he reached the window. With nowhere left to go, his determination quickly faded.  
  
Clu stepped up to the window, his legs on either side of Rinzler, bared erection just short of touching flesh. “You were saying?” he mocked. “Nothing? Well then, execute the command.”  
  
This time Rinzler obeyed, and opened his mouth just enough to offer entrance. Clu wasted no time, pressing into the slick mouth as soon as he felt Rinzler’s lips against his cock. He reached down with one hand and grasped a fistful of hair, holding Rinzler in place. He rested his other hand against the glass.  
  
The room was silent except for the desperate, gagged cries coming from Rinzler, and his uncontrollable rumbling purr. Clu laughed and slammed his hips forward, knocking Rinzler’s head into the glass. Then he did it a few more times just to amuse himself.  
  
“Do you know what I thought about when Sam was standing here, on this ship?” Clu breathed heavily. “I thought about what it would feel like to take him.”  
  
He followed the last words with another strong thrust.  
  
The impact of Rinzler’s head against the glass made him gasp, and his throat tightened reflexively. It sent a jolt of pleasure through Clu, who only continued pushing forward.  
  
“I could’ve had him easily, just like I do with you. But…” he stopped and tilted Rinzler’s head back. Their eyes met. “Sam probably would have had the dignity not to willingly let himself be used as a hole to fuck.”  
  
That did it. Rinzler shoved at Clu’s legs, knocking him back across the floor and onto the throne. He sprang to his feet and reached for his discs. Lunging forward, he pressed a knee to Clu’s chest, one disc against his throat, and the other pointed at the blackguard who jumped to intervene. Both discs were still inactive.  
  
“Leave,” Clu ordered. It was meant for his audience. Jarvis moved without a second thought, but the others hesitated, and Clu waved them off. After a moment they reluctantly exited to the operations room, leaving Clu and Rinzler frozen in place, eyes locked on one another.  
  
“Very promising,” Clu said with a smile. He lifted his chin, and Rinzler withdrew the disc. “Now, finish.”  
  
Rinzler pressed the discs back together, replaced them on his back, and dropped down to kneel on the floor. He immediately took Clu’s length in his mouth again, slowly making his way to the base, then sliding back up to start again. His hands remained on his own knees. He showed no sign of enjoying his task, but he no longer fought to avoid it.  
  
Clu made a strained sound low in his throat. Rinzler seemed to take this as an order and quickened his pace.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Clu said, letting his head fall back against the seat. “I won’t touch Sam Flynn. I have other plans for him.”  
  
Rinzler paused, then began again with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm. His hands snaked along Clu’s thighs, up to his abdomen, then back down again, his fingers curling into claws and scraping against the thick material of the suit. His tongue darted along the length of Clu’s cock as he moved, slipping between his lower lip and the slick, hot flesh. He pulled his mouth away and then spread his tongue wide, licked from the base to the tip, then swallowed it whole again.  
  
The intensity of his efforts had Clu moaning in ecstasy. He lifted his head from the back of the throne and watched as Rinzler eagerly sucked, stroked, and clawed at him like it was his wish from the beginning.  
  
His smile faded.  
  
“Stop.”  
  
This wasn’t what he wanted at all.  
  
Was it Sam? Because he mentioned having no intentions toward the boy? Was this _gratitude_?  
  
“Remove your suit. Turn away.”  
  
The current game was changing a bit too rapidly and too often for his tastes. It was time to finish for now.  
  
Clu pulled at Rinzler’s hips, angling him over his lap.  
  
“Put it in.”  
  
Rinzler reached back and gently took hold of Clu’s erection, using equal care not to move too quickly as he lowered himself onto it. Clu rolled his eyes. Rinzler couldn’t be seriously injured this way, but obviously the threat of pain alone was more than enough incentive to take his time.  
  
However, Clu wasn’t concerned right now with how it made _him_ feel. With his hands around Rinzler's waist, he pulled him down abruptly, bucking his hips and grunting as the other program's ass came down against his thighs.  
  
He clenched his jaw. Rinzler’s pretty little mouth and deft tongue had already drawn him close to the very edge. He pulled him down against his lap over and over, feeling the tension build a little more each time they came together. How he loved the moments before his release, when the furious need to be deep inside his broken toy pounded through his circuits. He could see Rinzler gripping the arms of the throne. His head was bent forward. Maybe someday Clu would ask him how it felt to be fucked by such a powerful program.  
  
“ _Yes_ …” he growled as his hips twitched and his pleasure hit its peak. Rinzler squared his shoulders against the force of Clu’s final thrusts. For a moment both programs were still, then the hands were withdrawn from his waist and Rinzler was allowed to move. He slipped off Clu’s lap and stood obediently to the side, looking out the window.  
  
Clu was sprawled out now, arms and legs draped across the throne. He sighed, feeling thoroughly satisfied for the moment.  
  
He resolved to keep pushing Rinzler until he found the right balance of fear, anger, and obedience. He had time on his hands while he waited for the users to make their move. And there was no doubt they would; even if Flynn would allow his son to remain trapped inside the system with him, Sam was too impatient not to make an attempt to reach the portal before it closed.  
  
Clu reached out and traced a finger along Rinzler’s thigh, drawing invisible patterns as he considered everything he had learned.  
  
“Maybe I’ll keep Sam,” he mused, “Once I’ve taken care of his father.”  
  
“Why?” Rinzler asked in a strained whisper.  
  
Clu laughed. “You know why.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clu is looking for less control, and he gets it.

Clu scanned the room as the lights flickered on row by row, racing to the other end and illuminating the small dwelling. So, this was the rock Flynn had crawled under after being chased from the Grid.  
  
A large false window on the far wall offered a panoramic view of the distant city skyline; Clu admitted a grudging respect for Flynn’s good taste in that regard, but his admiration ended there. The rest of the room was filled with sentimental litter. Objects conjured from bits of code that served no purpose but to distract from the dull, hopeless existence of their creator. How typical of a user.  
  
“Rinzler, search the other rooms,” he ordered.  
  
He watched for any sign of hesitation or recognition, but the other program obeyed his command immediately. Despite his more pressing concerns at the moment, Clu still found himself wondering what it would take to trigger more than a fleeting reemergence of Tron’s will. It wouldn’t be the most convenient time for him to lose control, but he couldn’t shake the desire to experiment. What harm could it do? He’d never had trouble bringing Rinzler back under control again. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit at the memories.  
  
He was pulled from his daydream by the clatter of Jarvis knocking something over. Clu fought back the urge to snap at him, and instead walked over to the dining table—and more nostalgic reminders of Flynn’s other life.  
  
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  
  
The perfect system, that was his command. _He_ wasn’t the one who had abandoned that ideal the moment a wave of abominations crawled out of the sea like primordial parasites. Flynn had failed _him_ , become distracted, corrupted by his own self-importance. He believed his “miracle” could change his world? What about _their_ world? Why wasn’t that enough for him? Clu had done everything he could to make Flynn realize the danger the Isos posed to their common vision of perfection, but nothing worked, and in the end his hand was forced in order to preserve what they had worked so hard to create. His anger was indescribable.  
  
Yet, underneath it all, he knew a small part of himself still ached to have Flynn by his side, directing the future of their world, sharing that perfection with him. The sense of loss only served to fuel his hatred.  
  
He swept everything from the table in a fit of rage. The absurdity of it all was not lost on him. He laughed at the realization that he still desired to please Flynn, after all. The user who had forced him, by his own inaction, to take on the mantle of creator, while reserving the greatest power for himself. Who had the audacity to strike back as though he were the victim, when he’d put _everything_ at risk with his selfish, short-sighted whims.  
  
No, that was wrong. It wasn’t Kevin Flynn who had put the system at risk. Kevin Flynn created him; Clu _was_ Flynn. He may have been denied the user's full power, but he was now the only thing that remained of his ideals. The being who occupied this space, who called himself Kevin Flynn, was no longer his creator. He was someone else.  
  
In the silence Clu suddenly realized that Rinzler was still gone. What had he found that was taking him so long? He left the common room and the evidence of his outburst and entered the right corridor. A door at the end of the hall was partially open, spilling white light into the darkness. He pushed it aside and found Rinzler standing at the foot of a bed, unmasked.  
  
“Where is your helmet? What’s in here?” he demanded.  
  
“Flynn.”  
  
Clu paused. The room was clearly empty, although the sheets on the bed were in total disarray. It was possible Flynn had slept in this room, but he doubted Rinzler could tell that just from being in there. Something else was triggering his memory.  
  
Well, if it was Flynn he wanted…  
  
“I am Flynn,” he said, and bit back the wave of resentment that threatened to surface.  
  
Rinzler lifted his hands and looked down at them, flexing his fingers as though suddenly aware that he was able to move them on his own. Clu sensed a prime opportunity.  
  
He sidled up next to the other program. “We’re friends, right?”  
  
The thought of what he might be able to do with this moment was too tempting to ignore. Even if he had wanted to stop, he couldn’t seem to once the idea had taken hold.  
  
“Yes, we’re good friends,” came the emotionless reply.  
  
Clu brought his other hand to the small of Rinzler’s back and slowly slid his palm down along the muscular swell of his armor. He reached between his powerful thighs and gently stroked Rinzler through his suit.  
  
“Let me show you what good friends we are,” he whispered, leaning close. His lips ghosted across Rinzler’s ear. “I’ll be gentle.” It was a lie, of course. Wouldn't it would be fascinating, he thought, to watch the affection for Flynn burn out of the part of Tron that he could still see in Rinzler’s eyes, as he destroyed the memory of their friendship.  
  
Suddenly his wrist was caught in a powerful grip. “No,” Rinzler said, “I’ll show you.”  
  
In an instant Clu found himself thrown face down on the bed. It was soft, and his body bounced as Rinzler knelt over him.  
  
He tried to turn, to push at the body pinning him down, but those same powerful hands caught his arms and held them in place, preventing him from moving. Despite his concern that he was about to personally experience everything he had visited upon Rinzler over countless cycles, Clu didn’t fight; he couldn’t. Instead he lay there, waiting to see what would happen. If Rinzler’s intentions were more than he was willing to accept, he could call for the others. Part of him was curious to see just what doors he’d opened, though.  
  
He felt warm lips against his neck, then a tongue gently caressing his ear. Rinzler removed his disc, and it was followed swiftly by his suit. He heard the rustle of fragmenting armor behind him at the same time. A moment later it was flesh against flesh.  
  
“Turn over,” Rinzler whispered against the nape of his neck, and Clu did so. The look of affection on the other program’s face surprised him. He was accustomed to hatred and fear, but he found himself facing a shy smile instead. Clu struggled to consider what this awkward tenderness could mean, for himself and for Rinzler, but the only thing he could imagine was—  
  
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Flynn.”  
  
There was a moment of stark confusion, and then Clu surged forward, catching Rinzler—Tron—whoever the program was at the moment—in a crushing embrace. He kissed him, pressing his tongue past soft lips. Strong, anxious hands roamed across his own back, alternately grasping and stroking, then slipping between the crush of their bodies, along the planes of his chest, until they reached his shoulders and he was abruptly pushed down against the mattress. Rinzler bent over him, kissing his neck and jaw, biting him gently.  
  
Clu could barely process what was happening. He felt his erection rub against skin, and it made him painfully aware of his desire to have Rinzler immediately, but the tantalizing nips and soft kisses that were making their way down his chest were drowning out all other thoughts in a roar of arousal. Rinzler traced his tongue along the curve of muscle at Clu’s abdomen, and he drew in a sharp breath. Distantly he wondered where he had learned how to manipulate the body so cleverly, but he dismissed the question as the kisses continued down, so close to the spot he desperately wanted to feel a hot, eager mouth wrapped around. Rinzler seemed to know this and avoided the area entirely. Clu knew he could grab his head and make him take his entire length whenever he wanted, but the anticipation and the expert torment of Rinzler’s insatiable tongue and lips had him writhing, and he could barely lift his arms anymore.  
  
He looked down and saw a face hovering just above his erection. The sight of it made him tense anxiously. He watched Rinzler gently lick the head a few times, then swallow it to the base, making pleased sounds that reverberated along the length of his shaft. Clu could feel the undulating heat of his mouth pressing against his cock from all sides, and it nearly drove him mad. Without warning Rinzler let it slip from his mouth and moved away again. Clu growled and twisted his hands in the sheets; if the plan was to arouse him until he spontaneously derezzed from the stress, it was working.  
  
Rinzler smiled, then moved up the bed and straddled Clu’s hips. As carefully as he had tried to other times, he lowered himself onto Clu’s now-slick erection, wincing as it filled him. He panted as he moved lower and lower, and for the first time Clu found himself aching with need at the sound of it.  
  
He watched Rinzler’s face, taking in the sight of his mouth wantonly hanging open, eyes closed against the pain, waiting for the moment it began to fade and give way to pleasure. When he was settled fully, Rinzler leaned forward and put his palms flat against Clu’s chest. Without warning his hips snapped forward. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tight; masking pain or pleasure, it was impossible to tell. Clu watching him and fought the urge to pull him into another kiss just to feel his tongue sliding against eagerly parted lips. Rinzler rocked forward again and again, faster each time, working up a rhythm to his own pleasure, heedless of anything else. The purring of his broken programming was a backdrop to the chorus of subdued cries and tiny gasps that filled the room.  
  
“Is this good?” he breathed, looking down at Clu, still rolling his hips at a pace that was getting close to frantic. “Is this what you like?”  
  
Clu wanted to say yes, because he did enjoy it. Very much. But he couldn’t speak. He was as confused as he was aroused, and he felt out of control. He didn’t want it to stop, but he didn’t know how it would end. All he could do was nod.  
  
A moment later Rinzler slowed himself, and then stopped entirely. Clu looked up at him.  
  
“I want to be under you,” he said.  
  
“Yes,” Clu replied in a hoarse whisper. It was past time for him to take control.  
  
He sat up and shouldered Rinzler backward, pushing him down to the foot of the bed and spreading his legs wide. With a groan he settled himself as far inside the other program as he could go. It still didn’t feel deep enough. Rinzler wrapped his legs around Clu’s back and lifted his hips, and Clu responded by pulling out and driving into him again. He slammed his hips down as though he could go deeper if he just tried hard enough.  
  
“ _Faster_ ,” Rinzler begged, and Clu obliged.  
  
The feeling of the body tangled around him, squeezing him, was indescribable. Clu could hear himself speaking, but the words were meaningless. He had lost all control of himself and the situation.  
  
That familiar knot started to build in his core, and for once he wished it would go away and give him more time. He needed this to last, but no matter how desperately he tried to hold back, the mounting pleasure was too great. He buried his face in Rinzler’s neck, shuddering against him, still thrusting into the smaller body as he came.  
  
After a moment he sat up, mind still clouded by the haze of his climax, and noticed Rinzler was grabbing at his own erection. Clu slid down and took it in his mouth as Rinzler lifted his head from the mattress to watch. He brought both hands to Clu’s head and began pushing his hips upward, fucking his mouth with the same frantic urgency as before.  
  
It didn’t take long for him to reach his own orgasm. He arched his back and shuddered, breathlessly saying Flynn’s name over and over. Clu barely registered the worshipful mantra. It wasn’t until Rinzler collapsed back against the mattress again, eyes closed, that Clu suddenly came to his senses.  
  
He could only stare in shock. He wasn’t sure what had happened, or why he was such a willing party to it.  
  
This wasn’t a door he’d anticipated opening. The fact that Tron had apparently harbored an attraction for Kevin Flynn, possibly even romantic feelings, was more than he wanted or needed to know. It was almost more than he could comprehend. The sense of satisfaction he felt suddenly turned to loathing, aimed directly at himself. He just wasn’t sure _why_.  
  
“What did you do to me?” he demanded, but there was no response from the limp body.  
  
He reached for Rinzler’s face and held it tight, pressing him against the bed, furious with himself as much as what had just taken place. Rinzler’s eyes snapped open. For a moment he seemed just as confused as Clu.  
  
“Which is worse,” Clu asked, glaring dangerously, “knowing you’ll never have him, or knowing he didn’t care enough to come looking for you?”  
  
Rinzler stared up at him. His expression fluctuated between rage and panic, and his hands twitched as though he was torn between fighting back and accepting what was happening as he always did.  
  
Clu wasn’t done, though. “I think Flynn would have been ashamed to know that his good friend Tron secretly fantasized about being his whore.” The words tumbled out as accusations. “Or is this something new? Is it all those times I had you across the throne, on the floor, or anywhere else I pleased? Have you created a fantasy to convince yourself someone would want to touch you for a reason other than to use you?”  
  
Rinzler looked lost, and Clu was certain he had no idea what had just happened. He didn’t care.  
  
“I guarantee no one does. You’re mine, for as long as I want you. And once we have the disc, once _Flynn_ is dealt with, I’ll make sure to take my time with you. I will build you up with these little hopes you’ve been clinging to, and then I will break you again with the reality of who and what you are. You’re an object. A tool,” he sneered, “not even good enough for the parts of yourself that still remember being Tron.”  
  
He leaned down and whispered the next words in Rinzler’s ear. “I am Flynn. I’m all that’s left of him, and all I see in you is a pathetic, broken program. I _know_ he would never want you.”  
  
He let go of Rinzler and picked up his disc. His suit began re-pixilating back into place as he stepped off the bed, but he still felt dangerously exposed. It took a serious effort to keep himself from sprinting to the door.  
  
It was impossible to think that he had been tainted by Flynn’s sentimentality. He told himself that whatever had just happened between them had been curiosity on his part, and another side effect of Rinzler’s repurposing. Nothing more.  
  
If he ever doubted that, he would have to destroy Rinzler.  
  
Nothing would come between him and perfection.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't un-ring the bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Sam, Kevin, and Quorra leave the End of Line Club.

Flynn and the boy were gone. What a surprise; he had given these programs a simple, straightforward task, and they failed to carry it out.  
  
“Find them,” he ordered, and watched as Rinzler stalked out of the room.  
  
It was a waste, really. Castor had such an appealing mouth, and the program seemed to know it as he pouted and grinned beckoningly, toying around with Flynn’s disc and making a fool of himself for the sheer joy of it.  
  
Destroying the older programs was not among Clu’s favorite things to do.  
  
Meanwhile, Jarvis was doing his best to gain some traction with the siren sitting at the bar, but she rebuffed him quickly with a disgusted sneer. Clu couldn’t fault her, Jarvis very often evoked the same reaction in him. He was sure it would only take a single command to have the program on his knees, mouth open—for anyone. The unbidden image accompanying that thought made his circuits run cold for a moment, and he quickly turned back to the task at hand.  
  
He would have to readjust his plans accordingly if recovering the users proved impossible. He had intended to question Flynn more thoroughly about his world, possibly while also engaging in the arousing subjugation of Sam. Or unmasking Rinzler and having the creator watch as his best friend was bent over and fucked right before his eyes. Or both. Prior to the events in the outlands, he might have even considered forcing Rinzler to perform for Flynn.  
  
None of that would be happening now.  
  
Clu dropped a ridiculous little decoration into the drink he’d prepared for Castor. The program was still talking. He had been so sure of himself at the beginning, but now, as Clu circled toward him, he appeared to be grasping for leverage. Clu handed him the drink, holding out his other hand for Flynn’s disc, and suddenly Castor seemed to realize he was in no position to seek balance of any kind. He made a last desperate attempt to gain reassurance that, at the very least, Clu would simply leave him be.  
  
Such a waste.  
  
“End of line, man,” Clu called back, striding from the bar. The blackguard set their charges and followed quickly.  
  
“What a shame I couldn’t have had that armory program, sir,” Jarvis ventured as they re-boarded the ship.  
  
Clu had to give him a sliver of respect for his nerve. “I’m sure she would have chosen deresolution, given the choice,” he muttered.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Clu looked down at the disc in his hands, noting that it felt heavier than others. Was it a trick, an illusion brought on by the thrill of knowing everything would finally fall into place? Or did Flynn’s accumulated knowledge really weigh so heavily? He sat in the throne, turning the object over in his hands, tracing its curves with his fingertips.  
  
“It’s time to join the _Rectifier_ ,” he commanded.  
  
He looked out the window at the city sprawling into the distance. Its borders were sharply defined by empty black spaces that melted into the desolate outlands. Would he ever see it all again? Maybe he should have left Castor to deal with things, after all. The absence of their leader would almost certainly result in chaos among the programs, and he had few alternatives, with the exception of Jarvis and Rinzler. Rinzler of course had other duties, some of which were more important than others, and he definitely wasn’t going to leave Jarvis in charge of his perfect system.  
  
The ship shuddered from the force of the explosion above, and Clu smiled. Too late to turn back now.  
  
Clu was far from concerned, though. The journey to join the carrier would provide him with ample opportunity to consider his options. He suddenly regretted that Rinzler was pursuing the users, rather than attending to his master. Clu could think of more than a few activities that would help pass the time; reestablishing his command over the security program being chief among them.  
  
Well, there was no reason he couldn’t attend _himself_ , instead. A flick of his hand sent Jarvis scrambling from the room. As the doors closed, Clu reached down to stroke himself through his suit, tracing the outline of his rapidly hardening cock, feeling it swell with anticipation at the thought of everything he would do once Rinzler returned. He imagined the program kneeling at his side as he stood triumphant over the broken users, purring as Clu knelt down to claim his willing mouth, teeth scraping across lips trembling with need…  
  
That wasn’t right. His hand stilled where he had pressed his palm flat to stroke his length, and he concentrated on imagining a more appropriate scenario; one where Rinzler was fighting to break free, pushing against the insistent weight of his master pinning him to the floor, his hands grasping and pulling Clu closer, and his hips bucking upward, seeking contact…  
  
“ _No!_ ” Clu shouted, slamming his other hand against the arm of the throne.  
  
It was all wrong, but he couldn’t seem to keep thoughts of their last encounter from tainting his fantasies. The more he tried to ignore them, the more the memories of needful moans and wandering hands filled him, driving out any notion of forcing himself upon Rinzler as he _should_. His cock ached, and he pressed his palm against it harder, trying to force himself to stop feeling so desperately aroused by the thoughts of Rinzler’s muscular body writhing below his, clutching at him and arching his back into the thrusts that had him wrapped around Clu just to stay in place. He recalled looking down at eyes shuttered against overwhelming pleasure. Feeling fingers that grasped at him like a lifeline. Clu derezzed his suit from the top of his thighs to his waist and then wrapped shaking fingers around his erection.   
  
It didn’t matter anymore. He was so painfully hard, and the flood of relived sensation was crashing down around him. Clu wanted to force Rinzler to take him inside his body, make him beg to be let go, only to inevitably give in to the unstoppable force of his master’s will. He wanted that more than anything, but he couldn’t imagine it anymore. All he could see when he closed his eyes was a nervous smile. The suddenly hollow thought of holding Rinzler down against the cold floor was replaced by hands that couldn’t stop touching him, pulling Clu down as though he would disappear if they broke contact. He squeezed his cock and pumped his fist harder, working himself up, following the path laid out by his memories. The heel of his left boot pushed against the floor, and his free hand clenched the arm of the throne. His entire body tensed with expectation. Just a moment longer, just one more thought. Something to tip him over the edge and give him the release he needed—and he thought of looking up at Rinzler as the program reached his climax, watching him throw his head back and cry out, “ _Flynn_.”  
  
Clu roared through clenched teeth and tore his hand away from his erection. That name. It hadn’t been meant for him. None of what had happened there was meant for him, and he would never be able to make himself believe it was. He could be Flynn in every way but those that truly mattered.  
  
He glared at his open palm. Relief would never come now, even if he wanted to continue trying. Flynn denied him what he deserved, again, and the user wasn’t even aware of it this time. Clu threaded his hands through his hair and doubled over in the seat, clenching his teeth and making sounds that only made him feel more desperate and helpless.  “Why,” he muttered to himself, “why now?”  
  
He couldn’t provide an answer, though. There was so much left to do, there were so many steps left to fulfill his directive, and now his entire reason for existing depended on variables he could no longer control. A single mistake could undo a thousand cycles of patient planning. He should have been filled with rage and eager to punish those responsible for this chaos. Instead his only thoughts were of Flynn and Tron, and the emptiness that he couldn’t _ever_ seem to fill.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Quorra is captured, and then in two separate flashbacks. Written from Rinzler/Tron's perspective.

Rinzler walked with the Iso’s arm held tight, pushing her ahead of himself to make sure she had no opportunity to attempt an escape. He expected her to try something. He was waiting for it. Strangely, he almost wanted it, although he wasn't sure why. She trudged ahead silently, bearing herself with what little dignity her position afforded. Like a prisoner heading toward execution. Rinzler knew that wouldn’t be her immediate fate, though. She would suffer before Clu’s disgust and hatred led him to destroy her, or to have someone else do it for him while he looked on. Through his dark helmet Rinzler watched her with what he felt should be pity, but the upward curve of his mouth felt like something else, something curled deep inside him that couldn’t wait to see another program suffer. To watch someone else humiliated and pained, crushed beneath relentless fury and desire, begging to be released without being allowed to speak, or move, or even think.  
  
It was the Iso’s turn. She could feel all the pain his master had to offer. Whether it was under his boot or his body, at least it would be someone else for once. The basic programs would never have held up under the pressure—the constant pressure that felt like it was draining him whether Clu was looming above or on the other side of the Grid. A simpler program wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe an Iso would hold up better; they were special, after all. They were very special.  
  
 _Flynn wanted to integrate the Isos into the system. To make them a part of the Grid._  
  
He could hear his master’s voice behind him, echoing all around, praising the perfection of his system and mocking the failure of the user who created it.  
  
 _Clu objected. Flynn ignored the warnings. It cost him the Grid, his freedom, and the life he left behind in his world. It cost the Isos their very existence._  
  
The Iso was giving him trouble now, walking slower than she had been. Her feet dragged awkwardly as he pushed her forward. Rinzler wanted to tell her to move faster, but he’d been ordered not to speak, and breaking the rules would lead to punishment.  
  
 _It cost Tron parts of himself he didn’t know he had to lose._  
  
  
  
  
  
“I did a poor job repurposing you, I admit that. But I’ve decided to leave you this way.”  
  
Rinzler turned his head and looked up; Clu was smiling down at him, disc in hand. He wondered if this would be the moment when Clu finally decided his enforcer wasn’t worth the trouble.  
  
“Did you know that everything Flynn understood and felt, right up to the moment he created me, was imprinted on my being along with his objective for this system? You weren’t so lucky with your user, of course. At least I don’t think you were, I was never very clear on that.” He trailed off and stopped for a moment before continuing. “I’ve tried everything, Rinzler. I’ve had you tortured—I’ve done it myself! I have forced you to watch as I derezzed programs that you cared for. I even broke that one program apart and then made you finish her. And I would do it again if there were any left I thought mattered to you. You know what I’m capable of, and yet you still defy me. You still fight your repurposing. It makes no sense, and you’re far too valuable to just destroy.”  
  
He knelt down and slid the disc under Rinzler’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “But guess what?” he asked, then waited for a moment as though he expected a response. When none came he continued. “I think I’ve finally figured out how to make you understand me. The best part is, it’s a gift from Flynn. Something he never even realized he gave me.”  
  
Rinzler trembled at the threat lurking in Clu’s words, even though he wasn’t quite sure what they meant. No doubt it would involve pain; for a long time that seemed to be the only thing Clu enjoyed. Rinzler fought him on occasion, knowing he hadn’t done anything wrong, but every so often he would find himself the target of his master’s aggression for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. He had asked for an explanation once. It was the only time he would make that mistake.  
  
They were on the floor of the empty arena. Rinzler spent most of his time there, training or preparing for the games. It was where Clu preferred to visit him whenever he was angry about something. The stands were empty now, though.  
  
“Take off your suit and give me both of your discs,” Clu ordered. He stepped back and began pacing, waiting for Rinzler to obey.  
  
Already confused and anxious to find out what it was Clu had in store for him, Rinzler reached back and removed his discs. He slid them across the floor, where they settled at Clu’s feet and were promptly kicked aside. His suit took a moment to derez, but he settled himself back down on the arena floor once it was done.  
  
“You enjoy being here, don’t you?” Clu asked. He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the arena. “I want you to remember, after this, that everything you have, you have at my pleasure.” He smiled again. “And this is definitely about _my_ pleasure.”  
  
Rinzler was still on his stomach, arms folded in front of him with his head resting on his forearms, when he heard the sound of Clu’s suit derezzing. He knew, then, what it was Clu had in mind.  
  
“Spread your legs.”  
  
He hesitated briefly, but ultimately obeyed and slowly spread his legs apart. A moment later he felt Clu kneel over him. Hands touched his thighs, kneading the flesh there. He felt a gentle touch on his backside, and then the sharp sting of teeth. He cried out.  
  
“Keep quiet.”  
  
The biting stopped, but Clu continued to explore Rinzler’s body with his hands, scratching and pinching, sliding between skin and the smooth surface of the arena floor to grasp at even more vulnerable areas. Rinzler was shaking now. Something told him this was going to get much worse before it was over. The longer Clu toyed with him, the louder and more insistent the voice became.  
  
“I can see why users enjoy this so much,” Clu observed.  
  
The weight on his legs shifted, and Rinzler felt Clu settle his body down on top of him. He could feel something warm and hard pressed against his backside, being maneuvered into position by Clu’s hand. Panic gripped him, and he jerked his legs together. Clu responded by hooking his feet around the inside of Rinzler’s legs and forcing them apart again. He reached one hand up and took hold of Rinzler’s wrists, then used the other to guide himself back into place.  
  
“Don’t fight me,” he demanded. His breath was heavy against Rinzler’s ear.  
  
The pain of being penetrated so abruptly made Rinzler slam his hips against the floor, trying to pull away. He was desperate to get Clu off him, but the position they were in gave the larger program the advantage, despite Rinzler’s superior strength. Clu now had a wrist in each of his own hands, holding Rinzler’s arms in place, and using his own weight to pin them there. He jerked his hips forward over and over, pushing his cock deeper inside with each thrust until there was no more length for Rinzler to take.  
  
 _Fight this._  
  
He desperately wanted to.  
  
Clu grunted in his ear, still grinding hard and fast against him.  
  
 _ **Fight him.**_  
  
His discs were too far to reach. If he could just throw Clu from his back for a moment, he was sure he could get to them.  
  
No, he had been ordered not to fight.  
  
“That’s right,” Clu panted, “accept it.”  
  
Rinzler breathed out a silent cry and pressed his forehead against the floor of the arena.  
  
 _This can’t be allowed to happen._  
  
No. Fighting had never done him any good. It only resulted in pain, and now humiliation unlike anything he’d ever known.  
  
It seemed to last forever. Each thrust jarred him as much as the first had. Clu eventually released his wrists, sure of his complete control over the smaller program. Rinzler felt a hand slip between his body and the floor, grasping for evidence that he was enjoying what was being done to him; when he couldn’t find it Clu intensified his apparent efforts to fuck Rinzler through the arena floor. He whispered words of encouragement, threats, disgusting pet names—things Rinzler was sure were intended more to further his own pleasure than incite it in the body he was forcing himself into.  
  
Clu suddenly yelled in his ear and slammed his hips down, jerking them forward several times before finally letting his body go limp. Rinzler didn’t dare move. He waited for Clu to extract himself and settle onto the floor beside him. He felt a hand come down and slip between his legs. The touch made him shudder.  
  
“I enjoyed that,” Clu said, laughing. He sounded surprised. Then he stood and picked up his disc. “You’ll come to me later so we can do this again. When you’re done here, of course. Take some time to consider the price of disobeying me.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Courage seemed to be something users possessed in greater reserves than the programs on the Grid. Flynn had always told Tron that he was more courageous than anyone he’d ever met, but Tron often thought he was just being kind. Flynn was given more to praise than criticism. Still, he placed an immeasurable amount of trust in the security program, which meant a great deal more than any words he could ever say.  
  
While it was a massive undertaking to oversee the Grid in the user’s absence, Tron would never admit it. He was initially grateful for the added help of Clu, although each time Flynn left the system to return to his own world, it seemed like Clu would take a bit more liberty with the interpretation of his orders than was necessary. Tron confronted him about it once, but he was waved off with a laugh. Clu had an excuse. He always had an excuse. There were times Tron wondered if he shouldn’t say something to Flynn, but he held back, waiting for more evidence to prove Clu was straying from his creator’s ideals.  
  
As it turned out, he held back too long. By the time there was solid evidence for concern, Flynn was already in danger.  
  
Tron arranged for transport to take Flynn from the city, back to the portal, almost the moment he arrived on the Grid. Flynn would have none of it. He was convinced that nothing was wrong. Tron explained what he had seen of Clu’s behavior, his suspicions about the program’s misinterpretation of his objective, but nothing he said could convince his friend to leave sooner than he intended.  
  
It took a moment of weakness to convince him to leave. Words that came dangerously close to touching something Tron had done his best to ignore for many cycles.  
  
“I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he said. “I’m worried.”  
  
Flynn stopped mid-step and laughed. The sound of it made Tron cringe with shame, although he knew Flynn was unaware of it.  
  
“Worried about me?” Flynn asked.  
  
Tron was blunt in his reply. “I think you’re taking a foolish risk,” he said.  
  
Now it was the user’s turn to flinch. He wasn’t accustomed to being criticized for his decisions, certainly not by his good friend. “What’s really bothering you, man?”  
  
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Tron replied quickly. He stopped and corrected himself. “There is nothing bothering me.”  
  
Flynn didn’t seem convinced. He put a hand on Tron’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done here. You know that, right? I know it’s not easy for you. No matter what I do, it’s going to be a struggle here until we really get things together. I’d create a dozen more of Clu if I thought it would make things easier for you.”  
  
“Please don’t do that.”  
  
Flynn threw his head back and laughed. Tron watched him with what he admitted to himself was more attention than was really necessary. He shook his head and turned away.  
  
“I’ll return tonight, if you really want me to,” Flynn said.  
  
“I do.”  
  
They walked silently for a few blocks, and Tron wondered what would happen once Flynn left the system this time. Would Clu take further advantage of his absence, or would he wait and try something the next time the user was on the Grid? There were too many unknown variables. Too much uncertainty. If he just had some proof to offer Flynn, something that unquestionably pointed to Clu’s corruption, maybe he could convince him to stay away.  
  
Either way, Tron felt as though he would lose.  
  
“I don’t know,” Flynn said suddenly as they rounded a corner. “I had a few things I wanted to finish before I left this time. Can you ask the transport to wait? I just want to get some plans set out for Clu, so he knows what I have in mind. It won’t take long.”  
  
“I really don’t think you should.”  
  
But Flynn had already made up his mind. He was exactly like Clu in that regard, and Tron supposed that made sense. It was the only thing he disliked about both of them; their total inability to shake an idea once it had taken hold. He was striding ahead now, intent on returning to his personal residence at the center of the city. Tron had been there once before. It was a good distance from there to where the ship was waiting, and he knew it would leave very little time to reach the portal, even if Flynn ran in and out, which seemed unlikely.  
  
“Please, I will make sure he receives any instructions you want him to have.”  
  
Flynn threw an arm around his shoulder. The touch made Tron’s circuits burn, but he tried to ignore it. Instead he focused on doing his best to convince Flynn that leaving immediately was the only reasonable course of action, but the more he talked, the more his friend seemed set on ignoring his advice.  
  
They were almost to the building when Clu intercepted them.  
  
Tron half expected to be ignored when he told Flynn to run. The fight was sloppy, and he knew Clu had the upper hand. All that mattered was Flynn’s safety. He would try his best to destroy Clu, but failing that, at least he would die knowing his friend didn’t have to come back for him. Tron knew that as long as he lived Flynn would never abandon him; he would always come back. Now he didn't have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. I will eventually post the sequel to AO3, once it's finished.


End file.
